The Right Words
by csijenniferlynn
Summary: Post episode 4x23, Bloodlines, Grissom picks Sara up from the police station after being pulled over for drunk driving.  Can Grissom find the right words to say to Sara?  Can Sara find the right words to say to Grissom?
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic. This is a ficlet that takes place following episode 4x23 in which Sara gets picked up for drunk driving and Grissom picks her up from the police station.

Grissom: "Is she okay?" _Oh, God, poor Sara. How did this happen? _"I'll come pick her up."

As Grissom walked out of his office to his Denali in the parking garage, he couldn't help but think that Sara's drunkenness was somehow his fault. Not only that, but he couldn't help thinking that he was an idiot for not seeing it; Brass had, in fact, told him just last week that he suspected Sara had a drinking problem, but he blew him off saying that Sara seemed perfectly fine to him. Well, how was he supposed to know if she was fine or not when he made a study out of avoiding her as much as possible because he knew, he just KNEW, that his feelings for her were inappropriate; he just couldn't be a "cradle-robber" and he just couldn't lose the job he had worked so hard for and loved so much. He couldn't lose his job for Sara because without the lab, without his team, without Brass, heck even without Greg, he would be empty, and could Sara alone ever fill that huge void? He wasn't sure.

The drive to the station in Henderson where Sara was being held was uneventful, which was good because Grissom had much more on his mind than the road in front of him. He didn't know what he would say to Sara. "I'm sorry" seemed inappropriate, because really, what did he have to be sorry for? He had made it clear to Sara that he couldn't be with her when he turned down her invite to dinner, hadn't he? He hadn't really driven her to drink by wanting to promote Nick instead of her, had he? Sara knew he had her best interests at heart, didn't she? He knew how much Sara cared for him, so didn't she know he cared for her as well? Hadn't he let his guard down in front of her a few times? He was pretty sure most bosses didn't accidentally tell an underling that she's beautiful, as he had let slip once in not so many words. Sara had said, "Since when did you care about beauty?" and before he could even think about it, he replied, "Since I met you." Inwardly, he cursed himself for saying it; he meant it, yes, but Sara deserved someone younger than him. He never meant to lead her on. He was afraid of having a relationship with her, afraid of the consequences a relationship with Sara might have.

Realizing he still hadn't figured out what to say to Sara, Grissom pulled into the parking lot of the Henderson Police Department and found an open space, which wasn't hard to do seeing as it was 4:30am. As he walked into the station, Grissom found that his pulse was rising, signaling to him that he was genuinely nervous about approaching Sara, the untouchable woman he might actually be in love with.

A graveyard shift officer greeted Grissom as he walked through the front doors. He said something about how Sara's blood alcohol level was above the new limit, but not the old limit, so that's why she wasn't being booked, but that's also why they called Grissom instead of letting her go, but Grissom could hardly hear the officer over the combined noise of his violently beating heart and the whirlpool of thought swirling through his mind. He did manage to get out a "Thank you, officer," as the gentleman showed him through to the lounge where Sara was.

Sara was in the seat farthest from the door with her hands supporting her chin and her face staring at the floor in front of her; she looked dejected, but the infamous Sidle Stare was clouding her face as well, indicating fury. As he walked over to her, Grissom frantically continued his search for the right thing to say, but coming up empty-handed, he merely sat down next to her in silence.

_Why is it that I can interrogate the world's worst people- people who hurt children, rape innocent women, murder family members- without feeling scared, hurt, frustrated or overwhelmed, but I can't even look at Sara in this situation without being overcome by emotion? _

After hesitating for a fraction of a second, Grissom held out his hand to Sara. She took it. "Come on, I'll take you home." _That's it? That's all I could come up with? Well, maybe I can get her to talk to me in the car._

As they stood up, Sara looked into his eyes for a brief moment. In that moment Grissom could see the pain and shame in Sara's eyes, and again, the feeling of being responsible for Sara's behavior surfaced.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own CSI.

Thank you, thank you to those of you who reviewed my first chapter! As I said, this is my first fanfic, and it was extremely gratifying to know that at least a couple people actually read it and, not only read it, but actually liked it!

Note: This chapter is presented from Sara's point of view.

_Damn. Why, Sara, why? Why the hell did I put myself in this situation? God, Grissom must think I'm a pathetic ass. _

As Sara took Grissom's hand and stood up to leave with him, she couldn't even look at him. She didn't think she'd ever been more angry- angry with herself, the officer who pulled her over, the officer who had the NERVE to call Grissom, angry with Grissom himself for driving her to drink, more angry with herself for allowing him to drive her to drink, angry that she'd ever left San Francisco for Vegas, angry, angry, angry at and about every damn thing. When she did glance up at him, Grissom's face was full of pity. The sight made her sick. She didn't need pity. She didn't want pity. She wanted respect and she wanted, no, she desperately NEEDED Grissom to see her as an equal- an equal in intelligence, independence, ability, wit, nerve, and even scientific geekiness. Getting herself in trouble for drunk driving was not about to accomplish that. Now Grissom would see her as a pathetic child.

Only reluctantly letting go of his hand as they reached the passenger-side door of his lab-issued Denali, Sara got into the SUV, adding anger at herself for wanting to hold Grissom's hand even though she knew the gesture wasn't out of affection on his part to her list of things she was angry about, and settled moodily into the seat, her legs crossed and resting against the door, her face against the window. She heard Grissom get into the driver's seat, but she did not turn to face him. She knew she should thank him for picking her up and offer an explanation as to why she ended up needing a ride home, but she just couldn't bring herself to apologize. He'd have to talk first. _He never opens up about anything, so why should I? I can play this game, too. _

Finally, with only 5 minutes remaining in the drive to Sara's apartment, Grissom finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "Sara, do you want to explain this to me?" he asked in a carefully constructed tone that suggested to Sara that he was "walking on eggshells" around her right now. "No" was her simple response. Why should she tell him anything when he was always so careful to never let her into his life? Frankly, she shouldn't have to. This incident had nothing to do with her job. She wasn't out on assignment. She was off the clock drinking on her own time. He had no right to know anything about her personal life. He'd made it clear a million times that he didn't care; Sara felt certain that this time was no different.

After another long, uncomfortable silence, Grissom pulled up to Sara's apartment complex.

"Can I convince you to talk to me?" Those words took Sara by surprise. She expected a blunt goodbye or the usual, "I'll see you at the lab," but "Can I convince you to talk to me?" Anger flared in Sara's chest again as a number of answers ran through her head: _"Take me out on a dinner date and then, sure, I'll chat," "Show me you care first,"_ or another simple _"No,"_ but she settled with, "If you talk first, I might reciprocate." Then, without being able to help herself, even though it looked as though Grissom was about to respond, she started into one of her classic "over-talking" tirades. She found the pitch of her voice rising with each sentence as she blurted out, "Grissom, you have no right to know what I was doing on my own time or why. You have told me in not so many words that you don't care and aren't interested in me. I don't know how my drunken behavior tonight could possibly change that. I don't even know how you know where I live. You sure as hell have never wanted to come here. If you want me to let you into my head, you're going to have to do some talking first. Explain. Explain it all, Grissom. Tell me why you won't give me a chance. Tell me why you don't respect me. Tell me."

Grissom stared at Sara, a "deer in the headlights" look on his face, and as he removed his glasses as he usually did when buying himself time before talking, set them on the dashboard, and massaged his forehead with his right hand, Sara found herself staring right back at him thinking, _"If he quotes Shakespeare at a moment like this, I am so quitting the lab and going back to California."_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

Note: This chapter is written from Grissom's perspective. Please read and review!

As Grissom massaged his temples with the fingers of his right hand, he bought himself time to consider his situation. Sara might talk to him if he tells her why he doesn't respect her. _Well, this is interesting- she might NOT talk even if I do answer her and I already do respect her. Why doesn't she understand that? _

After several long seconds, Sara gave an exasperated sigh, jerked the passenger side door open, and flung herself from the vehicle. Grissom knew this flurry of angry activity stemmed from his lack of answer thus far, and he didn't want to lose her now. Grissom called out, "Sara, wait." She continued her trek to her apartment complex's front doors. The only thing left to do was to follow her. Grissom exited the Denali in a hurry because he knew that once Sara crossed the threshold, she'd never open the automatically locking lobby doors for him. He caught up to Sara just as she walked through the doors; he followed Sara inside, and again said, "Sara, wait." This time, he added, in a rather small voice, "Please." Sara glanced around at him as she began climbing the stairs to the second floor, but didn't say anything. Grissom continued following Sara until they reached her apartment door. "Sara, please, I want to talk."

"Fine. I can't wait." The sarcasm was practically dripping from her words as the two of them entered the cozy, well-decorated living space. Grissom closed the door behind him, feeling trapped as he did so, and remained standing by the door.

"Griss, I'm not going to attack you," Sara said, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You're allowed to sit down."

Grissom moved to the couch and sat down. Sara chose the armchair next to the couch, and crossed her legs and arms as she sat down. Grissom noted her defensive position, and it only served to make him more nervous than he already was. It was now or never…

"Sara, I don't know what to say. I know you are angry with me, and I feel like I have hurt you as well." Getting no response to his words, not even a non-verbal one, Grissom could only hope he was on the right track. He took a deep breath, again massaging his temples, and continued, "Sara, do you remember when you said to me, 'I wish I was like you. I wish I didn't feel anything.'? It took me a while to understand where those harsh words came from, and it took me even longer to give justice to them. I want to explain why you felt it necessary to accuse me of being unfeeling." As Sara scowled and looked like she was going to interrupt, Grissom held his hand up and implored, "Please, Sara, let me continue." She settled back into her chair, her bold brown eyes fixing on Grissom's, allowing Grissom to note the emotions in Sara's face. He saw curiosity, hurt, discomfort, and maybe even embarrassment.

Grissom continued, "Sara, I am not unfeeling. When I first chose to use my love for insects and science in a forensic capacity, I learned quickly that it was necessary for me to hide my emotions. On my first case as a forensic entomologist, I was taken to a dump site; a 6 year old girl had been buried in a shallow grave, so shallow that she was not protected from the elements or the carnivores. Her form was hardly recognizable as human, she was so damaged. As I catalogued the quantities and varieties of insects that were residing in the poor girl's body and collected specimens for testing and creating a timeline, I found tears rolling down my cheeks. I was a grown man in my 20s, for Heaven's sake, and I was crying. I hadn't cried in years. I was a man; men don't cry." Again Sara opened her mouth, ready to interject, but Grissom wanted to continue his monologue uninterrupted, so again, he held his hand up to stop her.

He continued, "My supervisor caught me crying as we both helped the coroner lift the body onto a stretcher, and he wasn't tactful enough to ignore it. He seemed to feel that my tears brought into question my 'ability to cope with the presented assignments I'd have to deal with for the duration of my career as a forensic entomologist' and had nearly decided not to give me a contract, even though my insect evidence on that case brought the killer to justice. I asked for one more chance. I have not cried since then. Most of the time, I work each case strictly as a scientist and not as a being with emotion, or attachments. If I couldn't detach myself from my science, I would have walked out of the lab a long time ago and never come back. But, Sara, I've come back, day after day after day. I've seen corpse after corpse, some young, some old, some with tiny unborn babies inside that were denied the chance to ever meet this cruel world. I've seen bullet holes, burial sites, melted flesh, insect-infested eyeballs, desperate suicides, severed heads, psychotic suspects, and millions of other horrific things. I've been attacked by suspects, I've listened to the reasons for the violence and animosity, I've seen families torn apart, both literally and figuratively, by crime. And yet, I am able to go home every morning and savor the flavors of a home-cooked breakfast. I am able to appreciate the beauty of the sunrise. I can enjoy a movie, a baseball game, or a book. I can do these things because I leave the job at the lab. I have to do that, Sara, or I would be consumed with grief every minute of every day. I would be crushed by the weight of it all."

Grissom sighed and took a deep breath. Telling Sara all of this, telling her about the time he cried, was difficult, and yet, what he still had to say would be harder still. Sara had uncrossed her limbs. She was perched now on the edge of her seat and continued to stare into Grissom's eyes, giving him the strength he needed to continue. She did not attempt to interrupt again.

Grissom closed his eyes. He could not talk to Sara about their relationship while able to note her physical beauty, much less while able to note the intensity of her gaze. After another steadying breath, he continued. "Sara, I have just explained to you that I do feel, but have learned not to show my emotions. Because I suppress my emotions at work, I suppress them almost always; you know how many hours a week I spend in the lab and out in the field, and I come home in the mornings to an empty townhouse, therefore I have no reason to be emotional. That said, I want you to know, I NEED you to understand, Sara, that I care. I care deeply for my team, for my job, and, and, and I care deeply for you," Grissom stammered.

At that moment, Sara reached out and took Grissom's hand. He squeezed her hand gently and gave her a wry smile, which she returned after a moment's hesitation. "Keep going," she urged him. "Keep talking."

"I can't, Sara. I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me the truth, Grissom. Tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Grissom! Just tell me why you CAN'T be in a relationship with me. Why, Griss? I don't get it!" Sara's hair was in her eyes as she yelled at him, and Grissom, without thinking, leaned forward and swept it back behind her ear. Sara's ranting stopped immediately.

"Okay, Sara. Okay." Grissom's voice was exasperated. "I can't be in a relationship with you because I need my job. The lab is all I know, Sara. The people there, including you, are my everything. I live for my job, Sara, and if I lost that because I let my guard down around you, I might still have you, but I'd lose Brass, Catherine, Nicky, Warrick, Greg, Doc Robbins, and everyone else there. I'd no longer be able to use my science to find justice for victims of vicious crimes. I'd be reduced to an unemployed middle-aged man, wasting away in a lonely townhouse collecting bugs and completing crosswords. Or I might still have the lab and everyone in it but you, and I'd forever have to live with the guilt I'd carry for having lost you your job. Sara," he said, his voice softening and cracking, "Can't you see, I've given this a lot of thought and a relationship wouldn't work. I'd never forgive myself if our choices caused me to have to live without your witty comments, without being able to partner with you on my cases, without being able to stare at you as you bend over a microscope with your brow furrowed as you study evidence, without being able to listen to you banter about with Greg, without being able to stand so close to you by the evidence table that I can count each of your eyelashes, without seeing your beautiful body lean against my office doorframe every morning as you say goodbye. I would no longer be whole."

Sara's mouth was slightly open as she stared at Grissom. His mind was in turmoil. He dropped Sara's hand, hung his head, and waited for an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

Notes: Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is written from Sara's perspective.

As Sara listened to Grissom confess his feelings for her and his reasons for not pursuing a relationship with her, she felt torn- torn between vaulting herself off her chair and into his arms and slapping him across the face for giving good reasons for his behavior toward her. She didn't want it to be logical. For one time in her life, she wanted passion, not logic, to dictate her behavior, and Grissom's for that matter. _Damn it! Just take a deep breath, Sidle. Stay calm._

Sara fidgeted in her seat as Grissom stared at the floor, looking rather helpless and endearing. She was alternately glancing up at the ceiling and down at the floor as though hoping to find inspiration from either, and snuck a peak or two at Grissom's bowed head. Unfortunately, neither helped calm her mind or her heart as she struggled to find words to match Grissom's in intensity and meaning and that would trump his reasoning.

After clenching and unclenching her fists, Sara began in what she hoped was a calm, steady voice, "Grissom, first of all, thank you for opening up to me. I could tell it was hard for you. It's hard for me, too- opening up to other people, that is."

"Sara, you don't need to thank me."

"Griss, I let you talk without interruption. In the car, you asked me to talk. I'm trying now. Let me." Sara stared steadily into his eyes as she spoke, and Grissom silently acknowledged her request. It was his turn to hold out his hand, and Sara took it, gently squeezing it and moving herself onto the couch next to the man she loved, but not near enough to be touching any part of him, with the exception of the warm hand currently enveloping hers. As Sara moved to the couch, she watched Grissom carefully for his reaction; he didn't flinch, he simply tuned to face her, and Sara was grateful.

She continued, "My past, Griss, well, let's just say my past was rough. The thing is, though, my present is rough, too, but for very different reasons. In my past, I was abused by others." Here Grissom was clearly itching to interrupt, but Sara held him at bay with, "NO, Grissom, I don't need your sympathy right now. Right now, I'm trying to tell you my story. Just listen." Grissom relaxed back into the cushions and silently focused on Sara's eyes, those eyes with the impossibly long lashes he so adored.

"Like I said, in my past, I was abused by others. But for the past 3.5 years, I've been abused by myself. Not physically, of course. I'm not into self-mutilation; I see enough blood at work. I've become trapped by my feelings."

"Grissom, you've got to know I didn't up and leave my life in San Francisco just for kicks. When I got that call from you almost 4 years ago asking if I remembered you- for Heaven's sake, Grissom, how could I not have remembered you- and if I would be willing to fly to Vegas to help investigate Warrick, I practically ran out of my lab, almost forgetting to ask permission from my supervisor to take leave, effective right that very second. He seemed to know I was leaving whether he gave me permission or not, and I guess he was cool with that, because he gave me a week and said, 'While you're there, win me a million, will ya?'" Sara gave a small smirk at the recollection.

"I got to Vegas, found you at your crime scene, and as I walked up behind you, I lamented the fact that my hair had to be disheveled from the flight, and as I ran my fingers through my hair, I had that same intense feeling in my gut that I had 9 years ago when you walked into that lecture hall at Berkley. I realized that my feelings for you hadn't changed in all that time. I found myself grinning like an idiot at your backside, thrilled at the prospect of seeing your face in a moment. When you asked me to stay on at the lab, Grissom, I let my heart answer for me. I didn't give a second thought to leaving the life I knew- in San Francisco I had a good job, a good team, an apartment- and yet, at that moment, I couldn't have cared less. In the godforsaken desert terrain of Nevada, I had you. Or so I thought," Sara quietly added as she lowered her gaze to the floor. She abruptly pulled her hand out of Grissom's and glared back up at him continuing her monologue with, "So I stayed, and for a while, I was happy."

"I was happy to watch you interact with your team. I learned quickly how much Catherine and the guys respect you and value you as a boss, and that made me proud, as if you were mine. I was happy to egg Nick on when he'd make comments about me being 'the boss man's new favorite,' as I assumed he was right. I held my head high when confronted with anger from Warrick or Catherine because I told myself that they were just jealous of the chemistry between you and me. I was happy with the easy flirting between us. I was happy every time you chose me to work a case with you. I was smug because you never chose me for trash runs- I was certain that was because of your affection for me."

Sara's body was visibly tensing as she spoke, admitting her naivety to Grissom, admitting her pathetic assumptions. Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she continued, her voice rising in pitch and becoming somewhat hysterical. "Grissom, don't you see what I did to myself? I am a SCIENTIST for God's sake, and instead of following the evidence, which would have clearly told me I was deluded, I allowed myself to think you loved me! I uprooted my life for you, and for what? In the end, Griss, all I've gotten from the move is a slightly more prestigious job and a tendency to experience nausea around raw meat. All I wanted was you."

"Now that I've realized that you'll never love me, I'm a tortured woman. I can't leave. How humiliating would it be to stroll back to the lab in Frisco and beg for my old job back after so quickly abandoning it? What would it say about my character? Besides, Nick, Greg, and even Catherine and Warrick are my friends now. I walked out on all my friends at the lab in San Francisco and I can't do that again. I WON'T do that again, not now."

"I put on a great show at work, Grissom. Greg can see through my act, but he's good enough not to make me talk, but everyone else, even you, Griss, is clueless. I try to be friends with you, knowing I'll never be more, but the only pal you have is Catherine. Every morning when it's time to go home, I have a damn war inside my head, debating whether or not to stop at your office door to say goodbye or to hold my head high and walk right past you. How PATHETIC is that? It's even more pathetic when you consider that saying goodbye to you usually wins, when, if I was a stronger, I'd walk right past without even a glance in your direction."

"Like you, I go home to no one. Nothingness. Sometimes, I drink. It numbs the pain of the torture I put myself through on a daily basis. Tonight, I drank because you didn't choose me. Again. You chose Nick for the promotion. Not me. You forgot about me AGAIN. Even in a professional capacity, I mean nothing to you. I had let myself believe you'd pick me because you cared for me. I was stupid enough to fool myself again. I can't let you go, Grissom, and it's torture."

Sara's face was contorted with pain and humiliation, and seeing Grissom staring at her, wide-eyed with shock, she wanted to hide her pain yet again. Turning to pain into anger, Sara said in a disturbingly calm, cruel voice, "And now, Grissom, now you come here and tell me, in not so many words, that you love me. You have the God-damned NERVE to tell me you love me, love me enough to crave my touch and to stare at me, but not enough, never enough to act on it." Sara completely lost her composure and, jumping up from the couch, hair flying around her face, she started shouting, "YOU ARE MESSING WITH MY MIND, GRISSOM, AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! YOU CAN'T TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. IT WAS HARD ENOUGH KNOWING MY LOVE WAS UNREQUITED, BUT NOW, NOW IT'S A HUNDRED TIMES WORSE!"

Sara collapsed back into the armchair she had recently vacated, covering her face with her hands to hide the tears that had finally leaked out and feeling utterly defeated. Drawing her knees up to her chest and curling herself up into a ball, she whispered through her fingers, "Just go, Grissom. Just go."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still don't own or profit from CSI.

Note: This chapter is short and is written from Grissom's perspective. _

Grissom was speechless. He figured that surprised Sara a lot less than it did him. She left him speechless often; just last Tuesday, he had completely lost track of a conversation with Doc Robbins about the entry and exit wounds of a gunshot vic because Sara had suddenly walked into the morgue, and as she had bent over the DB on the next slab over, he had eyes for nothing except the way his Sara was so gently fingerprinting the vic.

Turning his thoughts back to the present and pained by the thought that he would surely make the wrong choice due to his social ineptitude, Grissom tried to figure out the puzzle sitting in front of him. Sara had just asked him to leave, but he could just hear Catherine's voice in his head yelling at him that his leaving might actually make things worse. _Not that things could get a whole lot worse. _Grissom took two tentative steps toward Sara's hunched over figure, then stopped, too nervous to get too near her. Shuffling his feet and starting at Sara's bowed head, he listened to her quiet sobs, watched her shoulders shake, heard her labored breathing, and felt immense pain knowing that he had done this to her. Just then, he knew what to do. Or at least, he hoped he knew.

Grissom covered the rest of the distance between himself and Sara with a few steps, quickly bent down and planted an awkward kiss on the top of her head and said, "Sara. I am going to leave now. I know that's what you want, and I respect that. I am going to come back, though, later this afternoon. Will you promise to let me in?" Grissom's heart was pounding in his chest; if Sara said no, he would likely lose her forever. He and Sara had had shared a lot of awkward moments these past few years and had had a few arguments, but he felt that this time, something was different. Guilt washed over him as he felt the full impact of her words; Sara had given him chance after chance after chance. She had never given up on him, and yet, he would hardly give her the time of day because it might affect his job. _I'm supposed to be a genius. If I'm so incredibly intelligent, why is it that I've been content to hide my feelings for Sara behind excuses for so many years? If I was really a smart man, I'd never have hurt her the way I have._

"Fine," Sara sighed heavily. "I'll be here."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I do not own CSI.

Note: This is the last chapter of this story. Thank you so very much to those of you who have stuck with The Right Words since the beginning. Writing my first story was enjoyable, most especially because of the very kind reviews! This chapter is written from Sara's perspective. Please read and review!

CSICSICSICSICSI

Sara watched him leave. Grissom was gone. He said he was coming back, and had even made her promise to let him back in, so she was certain he would indeed come back, but right now, he was gone. She buried her head in her lap again and sighed. Everything hurt. Not only was she officially hung over now, but her head ached, her eyes ached, and worst of all, her heart ached. How was she going to show her face in the lab tomorrow? She worked so hard and for so long to keep her past to herself, and she blew it. _Betcha anything next time we see an abuse case, Grissom'll pull me off it. So much for being an equal CSI. I guess that should be the least of my worries now, though. Will he tell Catherine what I said? Will he tell her that I love him? God, I hope not. That's probably why he left; he probably had to go talk to Catherine and get her to get him out of this mess. Great, just freaking great. Gossip queen will tell the whole office everything! I'm ruined._

Knowing she needed to get the morbid thoughts out of her head, Sara heaved herself up and plodded to the kitchen to make coffee. As the pot brewed, she grabbed an apple, washed it, sliced it, and then let the slices sit and get brown on the plate in front of her. When the coffee was ready, she poured some into her largest mug, added cream and sugar, and took it to the couch. She popped Pride and Prejudice into her Blue Ray player and settled down under a blanket to watch. It struck her as cruel that the heroine, Elizabeth, was able to get the man she wanted, even though he was wealthier and older all because she was able to get the stubborn man to overcome his reservations. True, the tale was just a tale, and an old one at that, but it paralleled her situation so much that even though Pride and Prejudice's strong female lead usually picked her up when she was down, today, it just made Sara feel even more distressed. Jabbing the off button on the remote, Sara stared at the blank screen for a few moments, then fell back into the couch's pillow, wrapped her blanket more snugly around herself, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Sara didn't hear the knock at first. It was soft and gentle, and she was still asleep. After the knocking became more persistent, Sara opened her eyes and wondered where the noise was coming from. It took hearing Grissom's voice calling, "Sara, are you in there? You promised to let me in?" to make Sara realize that he had actually come back. Rubbing her eyes and preparing herself for more disappointment, Sara slowly walked to the door and opened it.

Grissom was standing on her doormat, dressed to the nines and carrying a beautiful bouquet of Asiatic lilies. Sara simply stared at him, her brows furrowed in wonder. "Good afternoon, Sara. I came here to tell you that even though it's against office policy, I've been falling in love with you. In San Francisco when we met, I fell in love with your loquaciousness, your intellect, and your body. When you came to work for me, I fell in love with your dedication and passion. I fell in love with your smile, your bold, bright eyes, and your laugh. I fell in love with your friendliness and devotion to the team. When I even fell in love with your moodiness, I knew there was no turning back. When Debbie Marlin was murdered and I saw her body, lifeless and looking just like you, a part of me died, and I knew I needed you. Sara, from this moment onward, I promise to never again put my job and its rules ahead of you. So," Grissom paused and looked about as awkward as a teenager, "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Sara had never heard such beautiful words and she knew that he meant each and every one, and she had to smile at the fact that no one else could get away with talking about a dead body in a confession of love. She had been heartbroken when he had walked out the door earlier that morning, but realized now that he had actually had a plan. He had only made simple arrangements for a dinner date, but the gesture meant the world to her. She grabbed the lilies, tossed them softly behind her onto the coffee table, reached for Grissom's hand, pulled him inside, shut the door behind him, pulled him into a gentle hug, and said, "Yes" as she laid her head on Grissom's shoulder. Both of them were grinning.


End file.
